The Reels Poem by Nika McGuin
The Reels
Sometimes,
in the morning I sleep like a log
dreams hazy,
as I wander through the fog
of my mind...
My bones sink into the mattress
my lungs begin to compress
my eyes seal shut as if glued
my head, lies so heavy on my pillow
But inside!
I'm running through the mist -
subconscious thoughts go wild!
converting themselves into reels of footage
unintelligible to even me, the dreamer
They pile up heavy
like the weight of my body
upon awakening,
sometimes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/9/2024 2:59:11 AM # 1.0.0.1119
You capture the elusive quality of these SOMETIMES experiences. Usually we're left only with a vague feeling, a lingering flavor but not the whole impact. That's exactly what your recorded in this poem - it's a model on HOW TO prepare to remember. I like your precise description in stanza 2 on preparing your to be receptive. Because that's the key: inner receptiveness. And the third stanza shows that interior world. It's uncanny how you make these fleeting experiences seem real.